Chapter 36 #2
It was burned into my memory when my vision cleared and I took in how the bargain had ruined the land. The worst of the desolation is where we should go.
Mikael comes up beside me, threading his fingers into mine, holding my hand. He lifts my hand and kisses the back of it. “Together.”
Trust him. I trusted him after getting to know him, after he admitted he wanted me, then falling for him, and in our stolen moments. When we knew a bond was what we wanted.
I dip my chin with a slight smile, agreeing. We head east, hand in hand to the last trial.
The only information I’m going off of is knowing that we need to trust each other. My assumption that the Wastelands is the last location is a risk, a choice, my life depends on.
Every other trial has had some connection to our relationship, to our bond. Where else could the last trial be other than the Wastelands?
It was our ending, and could be the place of our new beginning if we survive whatever lies ahead. I might survive, he might survive, but that doesn’t mean we will. Our relationship. Our future. I dare not hope for a positive outcome when fate has never been on our side.
Amber and golden light filter through the trees, casting the soft glow of sunset around us.
“I know you need to stop,” Mikael says after we’ve been walking for a few hours.
“We don’t have time to waste.”
“It’s not a waste if you’re preventing yourself from healing properly.”
“Just a bit further.”
I’ve been trying to ignore the pain in my leg and shoulder, but they’re both throbbing, still not fully healed from the iron arrow and stab wound.
It’s getting too painful, and I know I need to stop. But I don’t plan on stopping until I collapse and am forced to rest. I’d rather get as close as possible. King Thalen could have sent guards after us, there might be more vampires, and there are all manner of beasts that roam these lands.
It doesn’t take long for the evergreen trees to become sparser, opening up into the grasslands that border the Wastelands. The shades of green and yellow transform, fading into browns and reds that spread out and spill over beyond the rift that’s now visible.
That wretched divide is far enough away that a human wouldn’t see it yet, but I can see the wound I left behind. A scar that never healed.
I finally stop, not wanting to go down there until the sun has risen, giving us a full day to search before night falls again. It’s already a dangerous place, and I’d rather be able to see what’s coming.
We make camp where the tree line meets the grasslands. Mikael starts collecting wood to build a fire. It’s a risk, but the temperature is too cold, especially without supplies, to go without one.
I sit down and stretch my legs out in front of me. Relief washes over me as the pressure from standing eases.
Exhaling, I unwrap the crimson-stained bandage to inspect the wound.
My skin is red and festering, where it should have been healing.
Poison from the iron still lingers. The royal healers likely only had time to remove the arrow and use salves instead of working to remove the poison before having me brought before King Thalen.
If I were resting, not walking, it would have healed, but the added strain isn’t helping. It’s not bleeding freely anymore, but without the pressure from the bandage, it pools and leaks from the small gouge that remains.
“I can heal you,” Mikael offers, staring at my leg.
“No.” There is no hesitation in my answer. “I won’t die. It’ll just take time, but I’ll make it.”
“Will it still heal once we cross into the Wastelands?” he asks, his hands twisting two sticks together. I snap my fingers, and a flame sparks to life. “Thanks.”
I hesitate before answering because I’m unsure. Our magic doesn’t work in the Wastelands, and immortals can die from wounds that we’d normally heal from. Vampires lose their ability to regenerate and come back to life.
“I’ll see how it looks in the morning,” I say, retying the bandage, then lie on the cold hard ground. “How many more days do we have left?”
“One. Maybe one and a half.” He looks to the sky. “It’d be better if you let me heal you so we can keep going.”
“I’d rather not be under your control.” I turn my back to him, rolling onto my side.
I don’t want to slide back into my old habit of hating him, of being angry, but I’m still hurt. He’s been back for less than a fortnight, and even with the reestablished bond, the negative emotions I held onto for two hundred years still have a strong hold.
I consider his perspective, putting myself in his place, and wonder if I would have also withheld that information. I don’t think he has a reason to lie to me.
His statement from earlier permeates my thoughts. My life is inconsequential compared to making sure you live.
If he didn’t intend to go back, to ascend, then what? Save me, and go to the human lands? Exile himself from Saelithra?
You will struggle, but the truth will save you, the high priestess told Mikael. I sigh, expelling the negativity that tries to devour me, wanting to sink its greedy claws back into my heart.
“Did you come here expecting to die?” I ask.
“I came expecting to give my life for yours, if that is what it took.”
“Do you realize how hurtful it is that you withheld information from me? How easy that makes it for me to want to slip back into my old habits of hating you?”
“Yes.” He sits beside me and takes my hand, holding it to his chest. “Close your eyes and listen. Hear what isn’t spoken.”
My lids gently close, and I wait while the chittering bugs, the soft whistle of the wind, and the trickle of water from the stream nearby fade and the beating of his heart grows louder.
With each beat comes a flurry of buried emotion—hesitation, regret, want, indecision—all related to Mikael’s thoughts, the conflict within himself. There is no lie in the way his body recalls every moment and opportunity that he didn’t tell me.
Every look. Every thought.
Dreams of what that life could be if we survive this curse. The desire to have me by his side as queen. Truth burning behind the words “my queen” when he was kneeling before me.
Utter and unyielding devotion.
He would willingly give it all up.
For me.
Would rather have me than a crown.
I open my eyes to a gaze so tender.
He grabs my wrist and slides my hand up his chest, then places it on his cheek, leaning into my touch. “Now that I have you back, I’m never letting go. I will give up everything for you, sacrifice my entire being.”
Rising, I loop my good arm around his neck. “I’m still upset.”
I move into his lap, hooking my legs around his waist. Our chests fuse together as I nuzzle my face into his neck.
“A right you have,” Mikael says, his strong arms wrapping around my back.
“I forgive you.” I breathe the words against his neck.
His ribs contract, a breath of relief flowing out of him. “Will you please—”
I pull away and answer before he finishes. “I’m not drinking your blood. Before we get to the Wastelands, there should be wildflowers that I can use to make a salve.”
He smiles, then cups my cheek and brings his lips to my forehead, pressing a gentle kiss against my skin. “What are we supposed to do? We don’t have much to work with this time.”
“There is no room for error, but we’ve been right so far.
I’m going to take us to the place I made the bargain.
If every ending has a beginning and this curse has thus far been about us and our relationship, then that is a big part of our past. I made the bargain and let the Fates leach magic from the land. ”
I pause, considering as I speak what the rest of the riddle means. “I think I need to give my magic back to the land.”
“I trust you.” He kisses the inside of my wrist and lies down, keeping me on top of him. “I’d make you scream my name under the stars, but I’m still covered in blood—and so are you.”
“We have a thousand lifetimes to make that happen.” I hope. I lean down and kiss him, before lying beside him.
We watch the night sky, counting how many beams of light streak across the stars until my lids grow heavy and I can no longer keep my eyes open.